


The Last Time

by GloriaGilbertPatch



Category: The Mindy Project
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 18:39:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1993620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GloriaGilbertPatch/pseuds/GloriaGilbertPatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mindy's thoughts immediately post - "Be Cool."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Diaphenia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diaphenia/gifts).



> I don't know why, but I really struggle with the voices in this fandom. Anyway, this is my take on ML's thoughts post-breakup, in light of what MK has said about the Danny/Mindy relationship. Also, this piece was inspired by a couple of anonymous asks I sent to Diaphenia, so it's dedicated to her.

_I want you to be the last person I ever have first-time sex with, and I don’t want that to be over yet._

God, even in her head it sounded like the kind of thing that would have made him run.

Sitting there, alone in her bed, tears falling freely down her cheeks, Mindy couldn’t help running through every moment of her all-too-brief, was-supposed-to-be-endgame relationship, couldn’t help blaming herself even though she knew it was his fault at least as much as it was hers. He wasn’t ready to commit to her…but then maybe he hadn’t known how ready she was to commit to him.

He’d been so hurt every time she said she didn’t want to have sex yet – he’d played it off as horny and frustrated, but horny and frustrated didn’t make men’s eyes look like that, like Santa isn’t real and you’re always last in gym class and oh, by the way, your mom doesn’t love you. And she’d wanted, so much, to tell him that it wasn’t that she didn’t want to have sex with him. To tell him it was just that she wanted this to last, the electric anticipation, the inching closer and closer, the going home at the end of the night and touching herself as she pictured him doing the same thing while thinking about her. That for once she wanted to draw this out, so that thirty years down the road when they had a house and a family and a life together they’d also have the delicious memory of driving each other crazy with unfulfilled desire. That she wanted the part of the relationship where sex was exciting and new and not just what you do after you clean up the dishes and brush your teeth to last as long as possible.

But how do you say that and not sound like you’re rushing things? It had only been a few weeks, after all. They’d never even said, “I love you”; she couldn’t be planning against the day when their un-begun sex life started to get stale.

So she just said she wanted to wait, and braced herself against the pain in his eyes, the hurt that she knew had her rejection as its cause. He didn’t argue with her, at least not after the first time, although he definitely did everything he could to break her resolve.

Maybe she should have told him, she thought morosely. Maybe he wouldn’t have been so convinced they’d screw it up if he’d known she was in this for keeps.

Or maybe she should have just done it, have taken him to bed quickly and eagerly the way she had other men she’d thought at the time she wanted to spend forever with. At least then she would’ve had the memory of his body moving with hers, of being as close to him as physically possible, of his ass under her fingernails and his chest hair against her nipples and his head bent in the crook of her neck as he came.

She still didn’t know what he looked like, what he sounded like when he climaxed and she suddenly felt the loss sharply. It had been fun to anticipate, while they were together, fun to dream about the things she would do to him, the things he would do to her, the daydream of Danny Castellano losing control and _taking_ control, getting what he wanted, what he needed. Intoxicating to think that what he wanted and needed was her. It was going to be so special when they had sex for the first time, for the last time, and she’d just wanted to be able to look forward to it a little longer. She’d just wanted him to want and need her a little longer, to see the longing in his eyes and hear desire in his voice because she knew there was no way it could last forever and she wanted it so much, wanted _him_ so much… _loved_ him so much.

But she’d spent too long anticipating, and now he was gone, and there was no next time to look forward to, only the loss of the memories she wished she had.

She glanced at the photo he’d texted her earlier in the evening – he’d put on a tie for this! – and deleted it. Stupid Danny and his stupid face and his weird body and his stupid penis that she’d seen and felt but never really gotten to know. She should’ve just banged him when she had the chance. She shouldn’t have tried to make it special since apparently making it special meant he’d leave.


End file.
